


Morning After

by askandiwilllie, secretsillnevertell



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hangover, Incest, Morning After, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3125684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askandiwilllie/pseuds/askandiwilllie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsillnevertell/pseuds/secretsillnevertell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the expression “the morning after the night before”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After

Awareness made itself known to Henry with stabbing pain deep in his head, and he rolled to his side to get away from the sunlight shining in the window. The movement was a mistake. His stomach roiled and twisted and he gulped back the urge to vomit as he laid still, trying to get his body back under control. Little pained whimpers escaped his throat as full regret of the alcohol he’d drank the night before (why had he been drinking, anyway?) set in.

The movement on the bed had Regina startling awake, her eyes opening slowly with immediate regret. Letting out a soft grunt, she raised her arm to her eyeline, blocking the sun. Her head was pounding and she was acutely aware that she wasn’t wearing anything. Blinking her eyes open slowly, Regina pushed herself up on her elbows and looked down to her side.

“Uhhh,” Henry groaned, his muscles tensing reflexively as the mattress moved beneath him. “Why is the world moving?” he whined, voice raspy with sleep and dehydration.

The sound of Henry’s voice shot bitter and cold terror through Regina’s veins. Bringing one hand to her forehead, Regina shut her eyes and turned her head slightly toward the sound. Scrunching her face, she peeked open one eye and saw her baby boy next to her on the bed, appearing to be wearing as much (or as little) as she was, just the bedsheet. Unable to bring herself to reach out to him, Regina brought her knees up to her chest and pushed on his thigh with her foot.

Henry let out another groan and whimper at the nudge, his body protesting the jostling. Reaching out blindly, too pained to even try to open his eyes, he found a bare forearm and patted the soft skin he touched. Then he paused, his eyebrows scrunching together. A person. There was another person in bed with him. How had that happened? And more importantly… who was it? “Please don’t be Ava,” he muttered, pressing his face into the pillow. Then he added, “Or Nick. Mom’ll kill me if you’re Ava or Nick. And maybe kill you, too.”

Regina winced and groaned again. Burying her face in her hands, she groaned, “Henry,” and the sound was fairly muffled by her hands. She realized that wouldn’t be much help for him to clarify whose bed he woke up in, so she dropped her hands away and spoke again. “Henry.”

Henry jolted awake and upright in an instant, his eyes wide at the familiar,  _too familiar,_  voice. It took a second for his stomach to catch up with the movement, but when it did, he had to clamp his hands over his mouth to keep from emptying it on his mother’s duvet. He didn’t have time to think, to process, the turn of events as he scrambled off the bed and beelined it for the bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet just in time to be sick.

Groaning at the sudden jolting and shifting of the bed, Regina dropped her head, parting her knees and bringing her head between them. She took a series of deep breaths to settle the nausea that was trying to take over. Regina knew she couldn’t handle vomiting, not when her head was splitting the way it was.

By the time Henry finished being sick long enough to take a breath, tears were streaming down his cheeks and his head was pounding with the worst headache he’d ever had. After flushing the toilet, he sat down on the cold tile floor, realizing at the moment his backside made contact that he was completely naked. “Mom?” he called pitifully. “Do you have painkillers?”

Regina sighed softly and breathed deep enough to quell another wave of nausea. Once it passed, she opened her eyes to the sight of the insides of her legs. Ignoring Henry, she let her legs drop to the bed and examined two reddish-purple bruises on her right thigh and one on the left. She couldn’t stop her stomach that time, and Regina found herself grasping for the small waste bin by her nightstand, vomiting until nothing but bile was spilling out.

The sound of her being sick set Henry off again, and he bent over the toilet once more, groaning and heaving until he was exhausted and ended up awkwardly sliding down to curl up on the floor on his side.

When Regina recovered, she pulled herself out of bed and reached for her robe. Once it was covering her, she walked into the bathroom and stepped over Henry on the floor, crossing to the medicine cabinet above the sink. Pulling it open, she selected a bottle of aspirin and poured out four tablets. Regina took a paper cup and filled it with water, knocking back two of the pills, then she refilled the cup and handed it to Henry with the other two tablets. She sat down on the edge of the bathtub and rested her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands once more.

Henry knocked back the pain pills as quickly as he could, slowly pulling himself up to sit upright, his back against the counter. “What happened?” he asked, bewildered. Waking up, naked, in bed with his (also naked, his brain reminded him) mother was not in the list of things he ever expected to happen. Hoped, sure, but he’d also hoped to go to the Enchanted Forest when he was eleven, but that hadn’t happened, now had it?

"I-I don’t remember…" Regina started. That was the exact moment when a memory hit her of Henry pressing her against the wall in her study, the top of last night’s dress gathered around her waist and Henry’s hands on her breasts, lips on her neck. Specifically on that spot she loved so much. Standing, Regina looked in the mirror, turning her face to check her neck, and sure enough there was another mark there. She groaned and looked down at his still naked form.

Biting his lip, Henry squinted up at her. “We had dinner together,” he remembered. “‘Cuz it was Valentine’s Day and everybody else had a date. How does that…?” Pulling himself to his feet, hands modestly covering his groin, he looked into the mirror as well. “Is that a hickey?”

"Yes," Regina hissed, narrowing her eyes at him and moving away. "I remember letting you drink, since… I think I figured everyone else would be, why not you?” Picking up her toothbrush, she squeezed paste onto it and began brushing her teeth.

“Huh.” Henry continued to look at himself in the mirror and brought one hand up to poke at the mark on his neck. “So… any idea why you gave me a hickey?”

Regina’s head shot up and in a near-shout she said, “What? I did no such thing!” But the sound was muffled through toothpaste foam. Taking a step closer, she spit into the sink and she looked at his neck in the mirror and whimpered. “I have… several of them. Do  _you_  know why? Because I don’t.”

Henry winced at the volume of her denial. “I don’t really remember anything after… apple pie?” he questioned, not entirely clear on what dessert had been. Apple  _something_ , he knew. “Then…” His eyebrows knitted together as he tried to come up with anything after that. His eyes went wide at the flash of memory, kneeling beside the bed, his mother’s legs over his shoulders, pressing his face into her, licking and sucking and nibbling… His penis began to swell. Slowly backing out of the room, he looked around, searching for his clothes. They were not, as he’d expected, on the floor, so he grabbed the bedsheet instead and quickly wrapped it around his waist.

Apple, Regina could remember why he was thinking of apples. She’d made an apple crisp, and she could remember that and… “Oh,” she groaned. Recalling a particular moment, Regina had a memory of sucking Henry’s bottom lip, the taste of cinnamon and apples lingering as his hands were tugging in her hair and pulling her against him. “ _Fuck_.” Leaving the bathroom, she found Henry in the room using her bedsheet as a towel and shook her head. “I need coffee.”

“Okay,” Henry nodded, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I’m gonna… um, get dressed. Then I’ll meet you down there?” He hadn’t intended for it to come out as a question — he needed his coffee, too — but he’d never been in a situation like this before, and wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it. He wondered what would come up if he Googled ‘help I accidentally slept with my mom.’

Regina nodded and left the room. She probably should’ve gotten dressed, but her robe was thick enough that she imagined she would be fine. Heading downstairs, Regina set about to brewing coffee once in the kitchen and pulled out a loaf of bread to make toast. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hangover, but she remembered toast helping.

After Regina had gone downstairs, Henry hurried to his room and threw on a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt, then quickly brushed the taste of vomit and too much alcohol out of his mouth. Since his clothes from the night before weren’t in either bedroom, and the last place he remembered being was the dining room, he headed there next. No clothes. The living room followed, but he was ultimately successful when he checked the study. He grabbed his shirt, pants, and boxers (which were on top of the lamp, what?) and noticed that the dress his mother had worn was also crumpled up on the floor, a lacy bra half on top of it. Biting his lip, he looked around again, then stepped toward the wall where another lacy little pile was. Bending down, he picked up the panties, letting them lay across his palm, his thumb brushing over the soft material.

Regina heard Henry come downstairs and expected him to join her in the kitchen. When a couple of minutes passed and he still hadn’t, she set to looking for him. She was unsuccessful until she stepped into the study to see Henry holding the underwear she distinctly remembered putting on the day before. Stopping in her tracks, Regina said, “I… was coming to see if you were hungry.” Her eyes were caught on the underwear laying across his palm, and she shook her head, shifting her gaze to his face.

Henry blushed, dropping the article of clothing reflexively. “Sorry, I… I saw it, and it wasn’t with your other stuff, and I was just… thinking.” Thinking of the flash of memory he’d gotten earlier, thinking of wetness and heat and tensing muscles around his head, muffling moans from above him. And now he was getting hard again. This was  _not_  going well.

Looking around, Regina couldn’t focus on his words. Her eyes caught the bare patch of wall where they’d undressed each other and he’d had her pressed between him and that wall, the wall she was turning away from. A memory of his hands roaming her body as she sucked on the muscle that joins his neck and shoulder filtered into her thoughts. Whimpering, Regina backed out of the room and headed toward the kitchen once more.

Henry followed her out of the room, pausing to dump his clothes on the stairs before joining her in the kitchen. “Mom?” he asks tentatively as he poured his own coffee. “Are… you okay?”

Regina took a heavy sip of the dark brew she’d poured and shook her head. “No. No, I’m not okay.” She turned to the toaster and filled all four openings. Keeping her back turned toward him, Regina asked, “Henry… what do you remember from last night?”

Blushing, Henry coughed and looked to the side and down. “Um… honest answer?”

"Yes," she answered automatically, second guessing it, but finding she needed to know. "Yes, honest answer."

Henry’s voice came out as a low mumble as he replied, “Um, I remember going down on you.”

Squeezing her eyes shut and wincing, Regina asked, “Where were we?”

“Bedroom. I don’t remember anything from your study.” Henry turned his coffee mug around in circles in his hands before taking a swig of the bitter liquid.

Realistically, she’d known that was coming, the marks on her thighs wouldn’t have come from the memories she was gathering. But she’d hoped they’d crawled into bed without finishing anything. “That’s all I can remember—the study, I mean,” she choked.

“What,” Henry’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before trying again. “What happened in the study?” It was a strange situation, to be sure, but he was fairly certain (approximately 98.7 percent, to be precise) that he was going to be revisiting this late at night for the foreseeable future, so he’d like to get as many details as possible.

Another flash of the previous night fluttered through her mind and she tried to sound disconnected as she spoke. “Aside from you marking my neck, uh… the wall by the door was where is started. Until that apparently wasn’t enough and we moved to the floor.” The words came out as a weak whisper and the toaster popping jolted her from her thoughts. Turning to grab the butter from the fridge, Regina refused to look at him.

Henry exhaled a slow breath, the mention of it bringing little flashes of memory, like he was looking at pictures, although he wasn’t sure if it was  _actually_ memory, or if his brain was simply providing mental images. Either way, he had to fight his increasing arousal. “Oh.”

"I just don’t understand how we got to the point I’ve remembered. I mean, I know we were drinking, but I cannot think of what could possibly lead to me… with  _my son_.” Regina buttered the toast a touch too violently and was soon sliding two pieces in front of Henry on the counter. “The bread will soak up any remaining alcohol.”

“Thanks,” Henry muttered, deflating. So much for needing to fight arousal. His brain flashed back to Saturday morning cartoons and an image of a marching band with the trumpet player’s instrument deflating — he couldn’t remember the context, but it certainly seemed to fit his current situation. He glanced down at his groin. Sad trumpet, indeed.

Regina looked at him and tilted her head sadly. “Henry, darling… don’t take it like that.” Taking one step closer to him, she put her hand on his arm and looked into his warm, green eyes. “You’re an attractive young man, you’re just also my son, so no, I can’t imagine why I would have done what we did. But that’s nothing personal on you.”

“You really can’t imagine it?” Henry asked hoarsely, searching her gaze for any hint that maybe his attraction would be reciprocated.

"Obviously what I can or cannot imagine doesn’t matter, as clearly I’ve expressed some level of… desire for you," Regina reasoned, her eyes watching him with confusion.

Henry tried to suppress his grin, but wasn’t entirely successful. He knew that his reaction was only going to make things more awkward, but the realization and affirmation that, at least somewhere deep inside, she felt the same way was too much of a dream come true to  **not**  have some kind of response to it.

Sighing, Regina shook her head. “Henry, why does that please you? I’m your mother, the thought should disgust you.” Her words must have been familiar, because she was remembering again, and that memory hit her in the gut, as well as, very particularly, in a place uncomfortably lower. “Oh, gods, Henry,” Regina said softly, her voice pained.

“What? What’s wrong?” Henry’s expression turned worried at the sudden change in his mother. “What just happened, Mom?”

"I just… it was just another memory, one in which you were incredibly… smooth with your words. I just don’t know how to deal with this." Regina wiped her hand over her face and whimpered.

Since he didn’t remember the apparent conversation, Henry was a little impressed that he had been ‘smooth with his words’ while drunk… although he had to acknowledge that Regina had also been drunk, and thus was likely a little easier to impress than normal. Taking a step closer to her, Henry offered, “I guess… if you want… we could pretend it didn’t happen. I mean, I don’t know about what you remember, but what I remember is kinda like a dream.”

Regina dipped her head, her hands coming up to rub her temples. “I… My memories are not coming back as hazy as a dream would.” The thoughts were there, though obviously incomplete, of his hands sliding over her skin and caressing her curves. Biting her lip. She looked at him through her eyelashes and gave him a pained look.

“Mine aren’t hazy, either,” Henry admitted. Maybe he’d used ‘dream’ as a loose term, more closely related to ‘fantasy’ than ‘unconscious brain spewing’ but both were, technically, legitimate definitions of the word. “Um… we could…” he wracked his brain for another suggestion, and while he was thinking, his mouth kept speaking without his permission, blurting out, “go for broke.”

"Go for broke," Regina repeated slowly. "Henry, what are you saying?" She  _knew_  what he was saying, and she would try to deny the pang of heat she felt between her thighs.

Henry shrugged a little and reached out, his hand curving around her waist. “We’ve already… done things,” he reasoned, managing to sound casual even as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest. “Why not  _really_  be able to remember them?”

If he kept touching her while she was thinking of their night together, she wouldn’t be able to say no. “Sweetheart… we… I-I…” she stuttered, her words failing her as she looked into his eyes, so full of desire.

“The line has already been crossed,” Henry pointed out, coaxing her closer to him, his voice deepening as his earlier arousal began to build again. Lifting his other hand to cup the side of Regina’s jaw, he slid his thumb over her cheek. “Would it be so bad to see what all the fuss was about? After all…” his lips tilted in a crooked grin, “if it was so good we did it twice…” he raised his eyebrows and let his sentence trail off.

Regina let out a soft moan at his words and decided to throw caution to the wind. She looked him over, then curled her hand around his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips against his.

Henry groaned in relief at her kiss and pulled her tight against him, her curves molding to his body.

Giving a weak sort of whimper, Regina parted her lips, sliding her tongue out to run along Henry’s lips. Her head was still pounding from her hangover, but she couldn’t think about it. Not with Henry filling all of her senses.

Sliding his hand from Regina’s side to the small of her back, Henry held her against him, his growing erection pressing into her lower stomach. He opened his mouth to accept her kiss, the taste of coffee and toothpaste on her tongue as he met it with his own.

Regina moaned into his mouth, her head tilting as their kiss grew deeper. “I…” she whispered, pulling back and looking into his eyes. “Henry…” Her voice was thick with arousal she thought shouldn’t be there, and she didn’t really have anything planned after saying his name.

“It’s okay,” Henry whispered, dipping his head again to string kisses down her neck. He turned them around so it was her back against the counter, and the arm he had around her moved, his hand following her curves as he brought it up to cup her breast. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against her ear.

She didn’t really have an argument, especially not when he was touching her and kissing her like that. Regina wondered when he’d gotten so good at  _not talking_. She breathed out, “Thank you,” because she didn’t know what else to say with her thoughts all muddled with Henry’s mouth and hand touching her. Raising her arms, Regina moved him so his mouth was on the exact spot he’d marked, and she held him there.

Henry groaned as a flood of arousal washed through him and he pressed his hips more firmly against her, sucking and biting at the mark he’d left the night before. “I want you,” he whispered. “I want you so much. I want to feel you, taste you, learn everything that gives you pleasure.”

"Like I said… smooth," Regina sighed. There was a silent war waging itself inside her thoughts. They’d already crossed that line, like Henry said. But they’d been drunk, that wasn’t an excuse anymore, if it happened again, it was in full acceptance of what  _exactly_  they were doing. Skipping a beat in her thoughts, Regina looked at Henry, pulling away from him to really see his face, and nodded. “Okay.”

Henry moved both hands down to Regina’s backside and lifted her against him, her core pressing against his erection when she wrapped her legs around his hips. He nearly stumbled at the feeling, and had to take a moment to steady himself before he carried her out of the kitchen, intent on returning to the bedroom they’d woken up in.

"Not the bedroom…" she whispered, choosing not to remind him why. She bent her neck to kiss his, her mouth landing on his jaw instead, so she kissed there before moving to his neck, just below his ear. Her robe had shifted up around her hips when she’d wrapped her legs around him, so there was nothing between his flannel pants and where she was  _so wet_  already and she let out an involuntary whine.

The thin layer of material was doing nothing to hide her arousal, and he could feel the wetness seeping through against him. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, turning at the top of the stairs to go to his bedroom instead. It was better that way, he decided. Now, he’d always have the memory of having her in his own bed. His fingers dug into her ass at the thought, jerking her firmly against him.

His fingers pushing her closer to him had her moaning, she needed more, needed him inside of her and that was a thought she’d never imagined having. He was so hard against her and her mind flickered with the memory of him filling her the night before, fucking her against the wall in her study, at least to start. Regina let out a groan in relief when they finally entered his bedroom. “Yes,” she hissed, her mouth latching to his neck again.

Nearly dropping her on the bed, Henry managed an awkward maneuver that ended with her on her back and him curled over her. He nearly blushed, before accepting that he didn’t really  _care_  how graceful he was. He was hungover and more aroused than he could remember being, ever. Bringing one hand to the tie of Regina’s robe, he pulled it open, looking down at her as he brushed the material away, her body bare beneath it. Bare and flushed, with tightened nipples and glistening wetness. “ _Fuck_ ,” he repeated fervently.

"Please do," Regina said, her words a little to breathy and bordering on begging for her preference, but she didn’t change them. Reaching for the bottom of his sweatshirt, she tugged it up,  _needing_  his skin and warmth against her body. She then slipped her arms out of her robe, not caring to push it out from under her body.

“I want to touch every part of you,” Henry groaned, lifting his arms so she could pull his sweatshirt off, then quickly pushing his pants down as well. “I want to taste every inch of your skin, but I  _can’t_ ,” his voice was pained as he brought his erection to her entrance. “I need you too much. Now, please, Mom… let me fuck you now.”

Regina rolled her hips down toward him and nodded, “Yes, Henry, fuck me.” She moved her hands over his chest, noticing he had more than the one hickey she’d seen already. His two still were nothing in comparison to the number he’d given her, and she wondered if he’d even noticed the three on her thighs.

Henry made an effort to move slowly, to memorize and savor the feeling of sinking into her tight heat. Groaning when his hips finally met hers, he looked down at her with lust-blown eyes, whispering, “You feel so good.”

"You too, sweetheart," Regina breathed, nearly whimpering again as he filled her. She rocked her hips up again, meeting his and taking him in at a different angle. It was a shame she couldn’t remember the first time she’d had sex in years, but this was good. And she needed more.

Dropping his head, Henry began to move against her, slowly withdrawing before thrusting back in. It felt amazing, better than anything he’d done before with anyone else. He curled backward slightly, changing the angle of his hips so he could reach her breasts with his mouth, sucking one nipple between his lips.

"Oh gods. Oh, Henry," Regina whimpered, her hand automatically cupping the back of his head and holding him in place. She moved her hips with him, and he felt  _so good,_ even though the place was slow and not her normal choice. Wrapping her free arm over his shoulder, Regina dug her fingernails into his back, pulling him as close as she could.

“So good,” Henry mumbled against her. He wanted to continue to savor the feeling of her around him, but his need was rising, and he began to move faster. “Fuck, you feel so good, wanna be inside you forever.”

"Harder, sweetheart. Please, I need more," she murmured, stroking the hair beneath her fingers. He was eager and she wanted everything he had to offer. Pulling him up, Regina caught his bottom lip between her teeth, then sucked it into her mouth, trailing her tongue lazily over it.

Henry moaned into her mouth, and he stroked into her harder without any conscious decision on his part. She told him what she needed and he did it — his instinct to please her like this was strong.

Letting out a deep, guttural moan, Regina breathed, “Yes, just like that.” She moved her arms around his waist, one hand on his back, one on his ass, pulling him closer, deeper. Regina slid her tongue out to meet his, tasting him, trying to learn everything she’d forgotten in her drunken haze. This was strange, sleeping with her son, but  _oh so good_.

Meeting and returning her kiss for a long moment, Henry finally moved his mouth back to her ear, nipping at the lobe before whispering, “I want you to come on me, Mom. I want to know what it feels like when you come, and then I want to come inside you. Can we do that? Can you come on my cock and can I come deep in your pussy?”

She didn’t know what to say, his words caught her by surprise. Her baby boy rarely used  _swear words_  in front of her, occasionally letting  _shit_ or  _damn_ or  _hell_ slip through his lips. Yet here was her son saying words like cock and pussy and she was writhing beneath him, in his arms, on his bed, as he used them. Muttering out a “Yes, Henry,” Regina moaned. “Gods, yes baby, make me come.”

Reaching between them, Henry found her clit with his fingers, rubbing circles over it in time with his thrusts and murmuring, “You’re so hot like this. So sexy and so wet for me.”

Regina jerked up at his contact with her clit. She was already closer than she would have imagined, and he was pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her mouth found his shoulder in need to suck. Finding herself surprised at the amount of muscle that moved beneath his skin with his movements, Regina bit instead, her teeth sinking into the skin in the middle of his shoulder. “You’re good, mm, so good.”

Henry groaned loudly at the bite, his hips jerking firmly, and he kept with the motion, pounding into her as he continued to rub her clit. He was getting close, himself, and was determined to feel her come around him before he released.

"I’m… close, so close," Regina breathed, feeling her body tightening, the heat low in her belly starting to spread. Pulling him harder, her fingernails sunk into his skin as she caught his lips against hers. A handful of thrusts later, she cried out a string of curses, his name mixed in as she fell over the edge, her body shaking and tensing.

Henry swore as she tightened and pulsed around him, her orgasm bringing him to the edge, and as she began to relax, he stroked into her, three hard, fast thrusts, before coming as well, letting out a cry as his release poured from him.

Regina panted and tried to concentrate on evening out her breaths as she let her weight fall back against the bed. She didn’t say anything, not yet, choosing instead to simply move her arms to wrap around Henry’s shoulders, holding him close to her.

Shuddering and twitching with the aftershocks, Henry laid against her, pressing his face into her neck and occasionally kissing the skin beneath his lips. “That was amazing,” he finally whispered, once he’d calmed.

Humming, she closed her eyes and nodded as she collected her thoughts. The missing pieces from the previous night filtered through her thoughts as she came down from the high Henry had given her. As each piece fit together, Regina’s eyes snapped open and she whimpered in her realization. She pushed Henry away, trying to move out from underneath him.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Henry asked, concerned, as he pushed himself up and reached out to brush her cheek. “Mom?”

"I… we didn’t—last night." Regina stopped speaking, letting herself put her thoughts together before she told him. Finally, when she caught her breath and the sound of her heartbeat left her ears, she explained. "Last night, I didn’t let you finish. I-I didn’t finish. Somehow I sobered enough to stop it before it got too far." Her voice cracked on her last word and she felt a few tears escape her eyes as she pulled the blanket up to cover herself.

Henry’s brain strained to process the meaning of her words. “But you said… and I  _definitely_ remember…” Remember, what, exactly? Yes, he certainly remembered having his mouth on her, but did he remember making her orgasm like that? No, no he didn’t. But it didn’t really matter, because they had done it now, and he had an upset woman in his bed. “Hey,” he said softly, sitting next to her and drawing her into his arms, careful to keep the blanket between them to not make her more uncomfortable. “It’s okay.”

"No. No, no it is  _not_  okay. I-if it had been done drunk, I could excuse it, but I was coherent enough last night,  _wasted,_  to know to stop it, and today, entirely sober, I didn’t.” Regina’s head was swimming in so many emotions and she couldn’t help but try to stop herself from letting them drown her, despite the fact that she didn’t want to think just then. “I can’t do this.”

“I’m not asking anything of you,” Henry said softly, brushing her hair back from her face. “I’m so grateful to have had this experience with you, and I really,  _really_  hope you don’t regret it. We’re just two consenting adults who shared an intimate moment. Even if we hadn’t gone all the way last night, I  **know**  we went pretty damn far.” His voice lowered to a whisper as he added, “I remember how you taste. And I never want to forget that, or this. Earlier you asked why I wasn’t disgusted by this. The answer is because I’ve thought about it before, I’ve wanted it. We don’t have to do it ever again, if you don’t want to, but please, don’t regret it. I don’t.”

Regina lifted her head more, allowing herself to look into his eyes. She saw that he was telling the truth, his green depths filled with warmth and love and care, and not one bad emotion. Slowly nodding, Regina shifted herself to lean against him. “Okay. And… I don’t regret it, it was too good to regret. It just feels so… strange.”

Henry couldn’t restrain the chuckle that bubbled up. “One of my moms is older than her own mother, who is in turn the step-daughter of my other mom. Strange is what we do.”

Letting out a laugh, Regina nodded and said, “True.” She turned her face and let her lips meet his jaw softly. “I love you. Thank you for not letting me get moody and withdrawn.”

“Any time,” Henry smiled and pressed a quick peck to her lips. “I love you, too, Mom. Now how about we get dressed, toss out the cold, dry toast in the kitchen, and go drown our hangovers in Granny’s pancakes?”

"Sounds good, darling," Regina answered, and they did just that.


End file.
